The Star of the Waters
by ladyofthesevenseas
Summary: When a threat is made on Middle Earth by the fire lord Moradan, the elven queen Nénariel must find a way to defeat him.
1. Introduction

**Note: **_I am in no way affiliated with any Lord of the Rings merchandise, such as the books, movies, or video games. All of the characters excluding Mandos are of my own creation, and all of the places excluding Middle Earth, Rohan, Gondor, Rivendell, and Lothlorien are of my own creation. Also, many of the elven and other names have been derived from the elfish language created by J.R.R. Tolkien._

When Middle Earth was still young, long before the war of the ring began, another enemy existed. Moradan had sprung forth from the fires of Mandos, and sought to control Middle Earth and its inhabitants. Long had the forces of the people of Middle Earth held him back, and long had he been weakening their defenses. Moving forward, Moradan had his sights set on controlling Telerindór, home of the elven queen Nénariel. Leading her army, the Várelen, against him, Nénariel managed to drive him back into his lair.

But the victory was short lived, for Moradan, now stronger and more intent on conquering Middle Earth than ever, was stirring . . .


	2. The Falls of Laurëa

Nénariel walked alongside the river Laurënen, pondering the events that had taken place over the last few months. It had been five years to the day since Moradan had fought against the Várelen, but to the elf queen it seemed like time had hardly passed.

But there were whispers that Moradan was gathering his strength and rebuilding his army. Unable to ignore the rumors any longer, Nénariel had sent messages to the leaders of Middle Earth to come to a council that would be held the next day at Telerindór, home of the Várelen.

Reaching the falls of Laurëa, Nénariel paused and looked around. The leaves on the trees had already started to turn golden. The smell of autumn was in the air, and the weather was turning cool. Closing her eyes, the only sounds that Nénariel could hear was the water flowing over the rocks and the wind blowing through the trees.

"My lady!" Nénariel was jolted out of her reverie by the calls of the captain of the Várelen, Aearion. "My lady, the soldiers are all preparing for battle, if need be."

"Very good," Nénariel allowed her soft purple eyes to linger on his dark blue ones. Sighing gently she fell into his strong, muscular arms. "I don't think I can keep my love for you a secret much longer."

"You know how harmful it would be if anyone discovered. You are a high elven queen, respected and admired throughout Middle Earth, while I am only the captain of the Várelen. The problems our relationship would cause would be numerous."

"I suppose you're right," she sighed, defeated. "But after our next battle against Moradan you will be looked upon with more respect. But for now my love, we will have to meet in secret." Nénariel felt him pull her closer.

"I love you, my star of the waters," he whispered in her ear, translating her name from the elven language of Quenya into the common speech. Time sped by as they remained intertwined, and it finally slowed down when the sounds of the Várelen could be heard as they were searching for Aearion. Quickly kissing Nénariel goodbye, Aearion went and joined the searchers.

Watching him leave, Nénariel felt as though her heart would break. Regaining her composure she slowly made her way back to Taurëcarde, her home.

Arriving at Taurëcarde Nénariel made her way to the library to prepare for the next day's council. It was her duty to inform the others of Moradan's power and the threat that he posed. Opening the thick leather-bound book that lay on the desk Nénariel found the section describing Moradan. Skimming over the words she quietly read aloud to herself:

_Moradan is one of the three fire lords of Middle Earth. He was born from the fires of Mandos, and is the strongest of the three. Soon after being given his strength and powers by his creator, Moradan escaped and broke the bond, which held him to Mandos. Setting out, Moradan had one clear goal in mind, controlling Middle Earth and it's people. Moradan was harmed by the Várelen, led by the elf-queen Nénariel, and was driven back into the shadows. He has not been spotted since._

Here the explanation of Moradan ended. The book went on to talk about the rebuilding of Middle Earth and the precautions that were necessary for the next time that he attacked.

But these precautions didn't take into account the new army that Moradan was forming. The army that consisted of more than just Orcs.

Walking to her room, Nénariel lay down on her bed, closing her eyes. With thoughts of the next day's council in her head, she feel into a deep restful sleep.


	3. The Council of the Sael

Chapter 3: The Council of the Sael

They came from all across Middle Earth. The ten Sael, the ten wise. They were all rulers of various kingdoms and so were summoned to the council. Thus it happened that on a breezy autumn day King Leod of Rohan, King Arahad of Gondor, along with his son Lord Aragost, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien, Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian of Rivendell (who were also Nénariel's parents), Barukhir and Khîmled of the dwarfish race, and Lord Laerlende of Telerindór (who was Nénariel's brother), met at Taurëcarde to discuss the actions that must be taken against Moradan.

The council was held in the "strategy" room of Taurëcarde. All the Sael were seated around a round table in beautiful chairs of gold and silver. Appearing in the doorway, Nénariel was clad in a stunning gown of white, with a simple silver crown adorning her head. Her long golden hair fell around her shoulders and her purple eyes shone with the knowledge of the wise. On her left stood Aearion, the captain of the Várelen. He wore a cloak of deep blue around his shoulders, which matched the color of his eyes. On her right stood her sister Ëariel, the lore master of Taurëcarde. She wore a gown much like her sister's in style, but it was a soft-bluish grey that made her dark brown hair stand out.

"Welcome to Taurëcarde. You have been asked to come here today to help decide what actions must be taken against Moradan." Walking to the table, Nénariel, Aearion, and Ëariel sat in the three empty seats. "There have been rumors of his stirring for some time now. King Arahad of has reason to believe that Moradan will attack," she said, motioning to the King.

"Yes my lady," he said, rising. "Moradan was last seen moving through my kingdom after his defeat by the Várelen. We were unsure of his whereabouts until recently. We now have reason to believe that he is lurking between Rohan and Gondor.

"Last month we had reports of a disturbance on our borders. My son Aragost went to see what was causing it. Two of the villages had been burned, leaving no survivors except for one small boy. He was much too frightened to tell us of his ordeal, but after taking him back to Minas Tirith he was finally able to describe what had happened.

"Moradan attacked in the middle of the night, while all the villagers were sleeping. He came not alone, but with an entire army of Orcs. They set fire to boy's house, waking him up, as well as his mother, father and baby sister. The last he saw of his mother and sister, they were trapped in a burning room. As for his father," here Arahad's voice faltered. "Well . . . his father was slain by the Orcs in front of the child's eyes. He ran behind the house and hid. That's where Aragost found him." He sat down.

Silence filled the room. Finally Nénariel broke the quiet. "What is the boy's name, and where is he now?"

Aragost spoke up for the first time. "His name is Aidan. He came with us to the council. We were unable to leave him at Minas Tirith-he wouldn't let us."

Nénariel smiled. "Well, we'll decide what to do with the child later. But for now we must get back to the matter at hand. Leod, you've had similar problems in your kingdom correct?"

"That's true. We have also had burned villages and sightings of Orcs on our borders. We must come up with a solution, or else Moradan will continue to terrorize Middle Earth."

"Leod speaks the truth," Galadriel said. "We must take action soon."

Nénariel remained silent as the others tried to come up with a plan. They discussed fighting with magic, cutting off his supplies, and using brute force. Finally they turned to Nénariel, awaiting her decision.

After looking around at the faces of the people gathered before her, Nénariel spoke. "Moradan has many armies of Orcs. Against them, we have no choice but to fight. Moradan will be harder. We must have weapons that are more powerful than swords. My craftsmen can fashion a sword of great skill and great power that can easily defeat him."

"Yes, but what about the others?" Khîmled asked.

"Others?" Nénariel asked, the confusion evident in her voice.

"Lord Ulculda, second only to Moradan. He is as large a threat to us as Moradan is. We cannot ignore him."

"Why have you not informed me of this until now?" she said, her eyes clouded over with anger.

Barukhir answered her question. "Until now only rumors have been heard."

"And now?"

"We learned yesterday that our suspicions were true. He exists and he is a threat."

Nénariel mulled over this new turn of events. This changed all of her thoughts and plans. Now two threats existed, and both were equally dangerous. She didn't know what Ulculda's weaknesses were, but she doubted that he had many. Quickly she tried to think of a plan to defeat him, but was disrupted by Ëariel's sweet, sing song voice breaking into her thoughts.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked, her eyes piercing into Nénariel, almost as if she was reading her mind. Nénariel looked at her sister before answering.

"We will fight Moradan and his army now, just like we were planning. I'm unsure what we should do about Ulculda. Until we can decide what will be done, we will just watch his every movement. Aearion, can you start preparing the Várelen for battle?"

Aearion stared ahead, his mind pondering what he was supposed to do. "How much time do we have?" he asked, trying to figure out if it would be possible.

"Six months or less."

"Hmm . . ." Aearion seemed to be unsure. "We need new weapons made; all of our old ones have seen their days in battle, but are not fit to fight anymore. And our armor will need to be patched. Many of the soldier's fighting and horseman skills are rusty, so that will take time to prepare. All in all, I would say we need eight months at the least. Would that be possible to allow?"

"It will be done. Leod, Arahad, you must gather your armies as well. How many soldiers will you be able to send to fight against Moradan?"

"I believe that I will be able to have around 50,000 soldiers ready to fight," Arahad answered.

"And there will be 30,000 horsemen from Rohan," Leod offered.

"So with the 50,000 Gondorian soldiers, the 30,000 horsemen from Rohan, and the 60,000 Várelen we have 140,000 soldiers. But that's not enough, we need more." Nénariel looked around at the other Sael, hoping that somehow they would be able to find some more fighters to go against the Orcs.

Celebrian spoke up in a very soft voice. "We can get 100,000 elfish soldiers in eight months."

"How is that possible?" Nénariel asked, unclear on she was planning.

"There are many young elves that are training to fight. They will be ready by the time that we move against Moradan. With them, we have 240,000 soldiers, that should be enough to hold the Orcs off, allowing someone to attack Moradan and defeat him." Celebrian's eyes were glowing with excitement.

"So it shall be." And that ended the Council of the Sael.

Nénariel walked beside the Laurënen, towards the forges. Aearion walked up and fell into step beside her. They walked in silence for a few minutes, until Aearion broke the tension.

"What's the matter?" he asked. He had always been able to know her feelings.

"Nothing," she replied. "It's just . . . well . . . I'm having my doubts about our fight against Moradan. Eight months is too long to wait. We need to move sooner, or else Moradan will have gathered too much strength."

"Well it can't be helped. I can't get the Várelen ready in any less time."

"Try!" Nénariel snapped.

"Something's wrong," Aearion stated. He put a hand on her shoulder and spun her around so she was facing him. "Tell me what it is."

"Nothing's wrong with me! The only thing that's wrong is your inability to train the Várelen." The anger in her voice was clear now. She tried to calm herself down; she knew that she wasn't really angry, she was just tense.

Aearion's expression grew cold and distant. "I must go now. I have some business that I must attend to." With that he turned around and walked towards the stables.

"Wait!" Nénariel called out, trying to stop Aearion from leaving. But it was too late; he was already gone. Heaving a deep sigh, she continued on her way to the forges.

The forges of Telerindór were extensive. Most days the roar of the fires and the pounding of hammers could be heard escaping the doors. Nénariel walked into the forges. The air was dark and smoky. Along one wall hung many swords. They were all silver, but different designs were engraved in them. There were two elves working on a sword when Nénariel entered. Seeing her, they stopped their work.

"I need new weapons made. Good battle weapons. I need enough for the entire Várelen by spring." The tone in her voice left no room for arguing. "I also need their armor to be mended."

"Yes my lady," one of the elves said. "We will start working right away."

"Good." She walked out of the forge and was blinded by the setting sun. Trying to clear her mind of the fight with Aearion, she prepared herself for the hard eight months that lay ahead of them.


End file.
